


for want of a pin

by leradny



Category: Darkangel Trilogy - Meredith Ann Pierce
Genre: Everything is Fine and Nothing Hurts, F/F, F/M, I REPEAT: EVERYTHING IS FINE AND NOTHING HURTS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leradny/pseuds/leradny
Summary: For want of a pin, the queen was lost--ah, but that is a different rime. [Fix-It, of the utterly shameless sort]
Relationships: Aeriel/Erin (Darkangel Trilogy), Aeriel/Irrylath (Darkangel Trilogy)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so. "the pearl of the soul of the world." I HAVE SO MUCH TO COMPLAIN ABOUT.
> 
> the wisest woman in the world sees a pin EMBEDDED THREE INCHES DEEP INTO A WOMAN'S SKULL and just... yanks it out right there with her bare hands??? even a regular pin would have needed HOURS OF PAINSTAKING SURGICAL CARE. like. sounds fake but ok i guess???
> 
> the wisest woman in the world couldn't figure out a way to save the world that DIDN'T involve tearing an innocent woman away from her family, husband, friends, and EVEN HER OLD BODY WITHOUT CONSENT, to become a slave again--for eternity???
> 
> and also. just speaking as a woman of color. i feel INCREDIBLY conflicted about Erin. i understand she stayed out of friendship and not slavery!!! i adore them in literally every other respect (or else i wouldn't have aeriel/erin as one of the pairings)!!! but again, as a woman of color, absolutely no amount of "erin made HER OWN CHOICE out of LOVE to stay with aeriel" can stop me from seeing "reasonably normal black woman in servitude to a powerful white sorceress for the rest of her life."
> 
> so. here. a fix-it.
> 
> mostly short chapters, because thinking about the ending (or ravenna) for too long causes me horrible agony, too.

_"Can you talk at all, child?" the dark lady asked her._

_The girl ducked her head. She could not speak, did not want to, did not want to try._

_"Try," the tall woman urged. "Let me see how deep the pin has bit."_

_The pale girl shivered. "Uh," she managed, a dull and ugly sound. "Uhn, mmh."_

_The other frowned. "Deep, I see."_

_"Mmh," the pale girl muttered. "Ngh."_

_One hand left her cheek. She sensed it hovering above the pin._

_"Cold as winterock," the dark lady whispered. "Feel how it chills the air! There can be no leaving it, then."_

Even buried deep in the head of an innocent damozel, Ravenna recognised the pin as a thing of her daughter's making. Ugly and twisted though their craft had been, Ravenna knew she could find a way to save this poor life if she took great care. So she hastened Melchior to give their new charge a soft bed, provided rations and for the duaroughs, and asked absolutely nothing of the girl besides to lie still during examinations.

She learned there were two main sorceries upon it. At the unyielding point there was one to cause pain whenever the bearer tried to think; and at the blunt head shaped like the hilt of a tiny sword, there lay a cruel hooked barb of a curse which would kill the bearer if it was removed. So she prepared a series of spells to render those harmless, and enacted one spell at a time, letting her sleep fully between each and every one.

One day, Ravenna entered the girl's room to find her sitting upright of her own will.

"Please, my lady," she said, and Ravenna was glad to see her emerald eyes alert and awake, to hear her voice speaking clearly and not dulled by pain or magic. "I am Aeriel--" she paused, and continued, "And last I knew, I was in the war-camp of Prince Irrylath, marching upon the White Witch." She stared about her in distress, then at Ravenna herself, and said tremblingly, "I know not where I am, nor who you are."

"Let us start with how we met, dear child," Ravenna said. "A host of duaroughs took you here with a pin in your skull from this very White Witch. You had gone senseless from the pain and sorceries upon it."

Aeriel felt about her head and indeed, she felt the smallest hint of something metal behind her right ear. She drew her hand away as quickly as if it was white-hot or edged with poison, and her horror showed on her face.

"The pin should have killed you instantly if I had removed it," said Ravenna. "Therefore I did not do so."

"But if you did not remove it, how did you restore me to myself?" She looked down at her body and raised a pale hand. "How--how am I still alive, my lady?"

"I simply ceased the sorceries upon it which caused pain and took your sense from you. Then I shrank the head so it would not be removed by anyone or anything, nor cause pain upon a mere touch. It shall not affect your body or soul in any way save being lodged there. Fear not, child! People have had worse guests within their bodies than a pin. Once upon a time, they even aided us in matters of healing."

"My thanks," Aeriel murmured. "Many thanks, my lady."

Ravenna extended a dusky hand to the pale girl. "Now let us break our fast before we speak of the other matters weighing on your mind."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know The Darkangel Trilogy was written in the '80s before the love triangle became overused for drama, but I would rather have had Sabr and Aeriel be friends.

Aeriel did not need to weave, being queen of Avaric, but she still found solace in the quiet, rhythmic work. She indulged herself by allowing servants to spin the thread and ready the warp, and then sent them away to weave designs of her own creation. Today she was finishing a cloth depicting Pendarlon, for she was to make a trip to visit her beloved Orroto-to in the desert. For a short time at least, she would be free once more. There was a firm step and a flicker of dark hair, and Aeriel looked up with a smile expecting to see Irrylath her husband--but instead she met the surprised gaze of Sabr.

"Why, what are you doing?" Sabr asked.

While not the worst thing she could have said, it took Aeriel by surprise as well. Though Sabr was now much less contentious, it was still difficult for them to speak to each other and they often gave as much effort to be polite in conversation, and no more. The rest of the time they avoided each other.

For lack of anything else, Aeriel replied with the truth: "I am weaving a gift to my hosts upon my visit to Pendar."

"But that is drudgery! Surely you can find someone else to do it."

"I am Queen of Avaric, and if I wish to weave, no one may tell me otherwise," Aeriel said firmly.

The Pirate Queen nodded, then drew closer. "It looks very fine, for all that. Whenever did you learn this trade?"

"When the darkangel took me as a tirewoman, I wove twelve and one gowns for his wives," Aeriel said.

Sabr was very quiet.

"A tirewoman for the darkangel," she repeated. "Yet the darkangel was Irrylath! You mean to say you were his slave before you were his wife?"

Aeriel thought Sabr might sneer at her, or some such thing. She nodded and looked to her weaving, hoping the conversation would end quickly. But as no words passed, Aeriel looked up and found there was not mockery but sympathy. And she found herself able to say, "Yes, I was his slave."

"I did not know that about you."

"It is not a part of our tale that either of us wishes to tell often," Aeriel responded. "And even before that, I was a slave in Terrain. From thread to finish, I wove clothing for my masters and myself--though not such fine stuff as this."

Sabr looked absolutely stricken. "From the songs I had thought you were a free-woman at least--even if you had not been raised as the suzerain's daughter in Pirs, you could have been fostered by some kind family..."

"No," Aeriel said. That was all she could manage for a long, painful moment. "No kith or kin I had til I discovered my brother Roshka and my aunt the Lady Syllva. And that when I was already grown."

Sabr approached the weaving bench, then took place next to Aeriel, though with some space between them.

"I think," Sabr said, for once sounding hesitant and unsure. "I think--for all the time I have spent with Irrylath--I should have spent more time with you as well, and learnt more of my kin by marriage. My feelings for Irrylath clouded my reason, and so I judged you wrongly and harshly. I called you many things, none of them kind. I dare say... No. I will say that I hated you, but not for what you truly are. I hated you for what I thought I saw, which was simply an obstacle to my desire and not a fellow woman. Would you forgive me, cousin?"

Aeriel nodded and reached out, but her hand faltered. And where she could not close the gap, Sabr put her own strong hand out, clasping Aeriel's.

"I--I called you queen of thieves, once," she admitted clumsily. "For that you must forgive me as well."

Sabr threw back her head and laughed. "You have my forgiveness, since that is more true than what I called you. A green-eyed witch, said I! Pale sorceress! I wonder, do witches make their own clothes? I daresay you washed and darned them as well."

"I did!" Their conversation had taken such a turn that Aeriel could not stop laughing until she felt breathless and giddy. And then, all at once, she remembered years ago--a long climb on a rocky mount, collecting wedding trumps and nectar, when she was still young and unsure--and yes, still a slave.

"Eoduin!" she cried, all her laughter turned to tears of grief. "Oh, Eoduin!"

Sabr looked about.

"That is who you remind me of," she managed through her tears. "Eoduin was my mistress, my friend, and she died when--"

Sabr put both her hands on Aeriel's shoulders so firmly Aeriel was surprised out of weeping. "I am glad that I remind you of your friend--but say not that I remind you of your mistress!" She said this with conviction in every word, and in this she resembled Irrylath greatly. "I am your cousin--and we are both queens--and you will never be slave to anyone again."

The pirate queen embraced her; she was very strong. If they had been standing, she would have lifted Aeriel off her feet. As it was, they were both still seated at the loom and Sabr knocked the shuttle off the warp threads, tangling them.

"By the Avarclon!" Sabr said. "I have made you weep and ruined your work. What a cousin am I, indeed!"

"It is a moment's work to fix," Aeriel told her. She drew the shuttle out of the thread and straightened the warp of the loom.

Sabr peered intently as she did so. "So many threads--I can make neither heads nor tails of this. Yet I know it is not sorcery, for I see women do this every day and of course I wear their finished goods."

"It is simple to me only because I was a child when I began," Aeriel reminded her. She continued to weave.

Sabr sat a moment in contemplation, watching Aeriel work. Then she cleared her throat and asked, "Would you teach me this craft, Aeriel?"

"I think not," Aeriel said. And Sabr's face fell in disappointment, but Aeriel continued, "For first you must learn how to spin." She cast about for a spindle--not her spindle of gold, but one of plain wood, and some roving.

As the daymonths passed, Sabr proved not so good a spinner or weaver; what made her a good ruler, her passion and drive, made her an impatient student. She turned out lumpy thread, which was discreetly put away for smoother thread upon her shift to weaving. And even this thread was tangled more than woven into ill-fashioned cloth. But Aeriel enjoyed the hours spent in the weaving room anyway, for where Sabr failed to spin a smooth thread or weave tight cloth, she was deft at spinning tales of her time as Pirate Queen. Most of them shocked Aeriel into laughter so that her own work was only saved by the years of experience she had.

And from these lessons, it had become a usual habit for them to walk together along the grounds of Tour-of-Kings, for Sabr loved to feel dayshine and wind on her skin--especially after a frustrating weaving session. On one of these such days they passed by a group of Avaric nobles, who eyed Aeriel and her lack of shadow and whispered 'Witch' behind their hands.

Erin frowned; she did not carry Bright-Burning for such a plain thing as a walk, but she put a hand on the regular sword at her hip. Aeriel would have ignored it and continued walking. But Sabr strode up to the nobles right away with a deep scowl. "Who calls Queen Aeriel a witch?"

They all went pale and averted their gazes.

"Did you not hear me!" Sabr demanded. "I said-- _who calls Queen Aeriel a witch?_ "

"None of us, Lady Sabr, none called her such," the nobles whimpered. "Might you have heard wrong?"

"Perhaps that is true," Sabr pretended to agree. "For if I were to hear someone speak of my beloved cousin so crassly, I would be sure to send word of it to her husband and your King." She turned away, chin in the air. Aeriel followed half in a daze, with Erin nearly as shocked. "Witch," Sabr muttered, not noticing their amazement.

"Did you not call me that yourself, Sabr?" Aeriel asked. In truth she was still reeling from how Sabr had called her 'beloved cousin.' Her, and not Irrylath!

"Of course, but were those people friend or cousin to you?" Sabr tossed her head and again exclaimed, "Witch! Hated word. Only I may call you that, Aeriel--for you know I mean it only in jest."

Aeriel looked to Erin and saw the same look of bewilderment and silent laughter that must have been on her own face. The walk finished uneventfully. Whenever Sabr was cross, her feelings were plain to see on her face, and people tended to scurry out of her way. Thus they left Aeriel and Erin in peace also. When they had bid Sabr farewell, Erin leaned in close and said lowly, "How Sabr has changed! To think you hated her upon first meeting."

"But has Sabr truly changed?" Aeriel asked. "For I see that she is still fierce--but before, it was turned against me. Now that she uses it in my defense, I can see why people love her in return. She is a good friend and loyal to the bone."

"Would that we had all been friends from the start," Erin grumbled.

"Remember, my dearest--it took me two years to win Irrylath's love. I dare say his cousin should be the same way. Though--" Aeriel smiled. "I think I'll not wed Sabr."

And they both burst into laughter as they walked home, hand in hand.


End file.
